He was suddenly calm. He handed Ruth a letter. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Diane replied, “Is there something wrong with that, Michelle? This is my house too, you know. He laughed to hide his uneasiness. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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